


The Times

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hes naked but don’t worry about it, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, Nostalgia, Other, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: George is struggling under the pressure of the fame, and one tour, he can’t hide it anymore.
Relationships: George Harrison & Ringo Starr
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Times

Ringo knocked on the toilet door once again, trying to get George out of the shower so that he could take his before it got to be too late and he couldn’t get up in the morning on time. 

“George! Couldn’t you hurry it up just a tad? You’re not the only one that needs a shower!” For the umpteenth time, he got no answer from the guitarist. “This is fucking insane,” he muttered, running a hand through his dirty hair. “Geo! You’ve been in there for over an hour!”

Leaning up against the vanity across the small hallway, he glanced over at the beds, distraught from the couple of nights they’d already stayed. His pyjamas and robe sat on his bed, awaiting his own cleanse if his friend in the toilet would just speed up the process.

He knocked once again, deciding if he didn’t get an answer this time, he was going to give up on trying and just walk in. And sure enough, when he called out the name, no response came. “Okay, Georgie, I’m coming in.”

If George could hear him and was doing something he didn’t want him to see, he would’ve said something, but still, he didn’t, so Ringo opened the door. 

The first thing he saw through the fogged up sliding glass door of the shower was George in the corner, looking as if he’d curled into a ball, and his head was buried into his knees, leaving the drummer to see nothing but his wet hair.

“George?” The head looked up, and Ringo saw the redness of it. He had definitely been crying. “Oh, love. What’s wrong?” He grabbed the towel off of the toilet seat, turned off the hot shower, and bent down in front of the guitarist.

“What do you want, Richie?”

“You’ve been in here for an hour, Geo! And you weren’t answering!” He winced at the volume of his voice, so Ringo sighed. “Sorry. Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Holding the towel out, he helped George to stand up and wrapped him up in it like a child. 

George didn’t protest at all as Ringo handled him so gently. He didn’t even have to hold up the towel as he was led out of the toilet and to sit down on the couch on the way to the beds. 

“You okay? What’s going on?” George leaned up against him, and when the towel around his waist began to slip, he hurriedly went to catch it, despite the fact that Ringo had averted his eyes.

“D-do you ever feel like this is all too much?” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably beneath Ringo’s protective glare. When he could feel that the drummer was confused, he went on. “I mean, every day, going through the most useless interviews and concerts each day, and then getting back to the hotel and having nothing to do…”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that.” Placing a hand on George’s knee, he began tracing circles into it. 

“It’s so fucking exhausting… And all this fucking fame, Rich. I wasn’t meant for this.” His dark eyes focused on the shallow rise and fall of Ringo’s stomach. “You can see how John and Paul feed on the attention. I mean, you just seem indifferent to it. It’s like I’m the only one that wishes you could undo it. I miss it!”

He sat up and turned the other way from Ringo, having already admitted his feelings. And then he heard a soft, “I miss it, too.” And he looked back behind him. “I miss being at home with my mum and Harry. And I miss Liverpool.”

“I miss Pattie. And Peter. And I miss walking around and making trouble with Paul.” He started to cry even harder remembering his childhood, and he clung to Ringo once again. 

“I miss Rory and those goddamned pink suits, y’know.”

George laughed. “I miss the cavern, Richie. I miss Mimi getting mad whenever I showed up at John’s house wearing that leather jacket.” He felt a hand rubbing his back. 

“I miss Doreen. You never knew her, did you?” George shook his head, looking into Ringo’s thoughtful eyes. “She was my girlfriend. She was my first time, too…”

Then, an even bigger smile broke out on George’s face. “I don’t even know who my first time was,” he laughed, but not a moment later, it turned into a frown. “I miss not caring about that. I miss Hamburg, back when we were all sleeping on top of each other.”

“Well, I don’t miss Hamburg.” 

“God, it smelled awful. And we couldn’t even properly bathe, either. Wish we had that kind of shower there.” He motioned over to the toilet Ringo had just dragged him out of. “You know, Stuart used to always use the hand soap on the sinks because he didn’t like the way John’s shampoo smelled.”

Once again, his playful tone disappeared, and the frown became even deeper. So deep until the tears came back, and the drummer next to him held him close. “You okay, Georgie?”

“I miss Stu.” The three words changed everything. Because Stuart wasn’t just a fun memory that appeared every once in a while. Stuart wasn’t a nostalgia to sit and laugh about. Stuart was a gaping hole left in the hearts of all of them that was never going to be filled no matter how hard they tried. “He was the only one that was always nice to me.”

George’s broken voice was enough to set Ringo over the edge, too, and he began to cry as well, still holding George into his heaving chest, an attempt to calm him down as much as possible. 

“I know, love.”

“He should be here with us, too. If we have to suffer through fame, he should have to! It’s not fair!” Ringo didn’t say anything after that. He knew he didn’t have to. The way he held the younger man until he fell asleep just two minutes later was enough. 

He, too, closed his eyes. He could worry about getting George dressed in the morning.


End file.
